Idle Mage: Humanity's Strongest Backer

Things escalated in Galadriel while the Fey King was ill...

The palace was in a state of chaos. The news of the Fey King's illness had spread like wildfire, and everyone knew that he only had a few months to live at most. The air was thick with tension, and the atmosphere was charged with anticipation of what was to come.

The six Fey Princes, Ardan, Eolande, Calanthor, Gwynneth, Tathariel, and Faeril, were all gathered in the throne room. They stood in a circle, each eyeing the other with suspicion and greed. The tension was palpable, and everyone could feel the weight of the power that hung in the air.

The Fey King's Council had gathered in the throne room, ready to discuss the Battle for the Throne with the Fey Princes. Ever since receiving the diagnosis of the Fey King's health, they've all accepted his fate. But as Elders of the Council, they needed to restore order and peace to the Palace and the citizens of Galadriel, and they could only do that by appointing the rightful heir to the throne.

The six princes, Ardan, Eolande, Calanthor, Gwynneth, Tathariel, and Faeril, entered the room and stood before the council, each one sizing up the other.

The atmosphere was tense as the council began to speak. "My Lords," the head councilman began, "as you all know, the Battle for the Throne is upon us. The rules are simple: each of you must enter the arena with your troops and fight each other, and the last one standing will be crowned the next ruler of the Fey Kingdom."

Eolande, the second eldest prince, spoke up with a note of caution in his voice. "And what of the schedule? When will the battle take place?" she asked.

The councilman replied, "The battle will take place in one month. We have ensured that all preparations have been made, and the arena is ready to host the competition."

Ardan, the eldest prince, stepped forward with a look of determination on his face. "We are all aware of the stakes of this battle," he said, his voice firm. "But what of the consequences for those who do not emerge victorious?"

The councilman replied, "Those who do not survive the battle will be honored in the Fey tradition, and their memories will be revered for generations to come."

Calanthor, the third eldest prince, spoke up with a fierce glint in his eyes. "I, for one, will not leave anything to chance," he said. "I have trained my entire life for this moment, and I will emerge victorious."

Tathariel, the fifth eldest prince, spoke with a note of caution. "We must all be mindful of our actions," he said. "Let us not let our ambitions get the best of us."

The council nodded in agreement, and the meeting concluded. The six princes left the throne room, each with their own thoughts and strategies on how to emerge victorious in the Battle for the Throne.

With that, the siblings began to exchange furtive glances, their words laced with pretenses and hidden meanings. Each was aware of the other's ambitions, and each knew that their siblings would stop at nothing to secure the throne for themselves. The air was thick with tension as they began to plot and scheme, their plans shrouded in secrecy as they vied for the ultimate prize.

***

The Fey Princes dispersed to their own chambers, each deep in thought about their next move in the upcoming Battle for the Throne. Tathariel, the fifth eldest prince, retreated to his private chambers and began to study maps of the Fey Kingdom, trying to anticipate his siblings' moves.

As he was deep in thought, he heard a knock on his door. He opened it to find his brother, Eolande, standing before him.

"Tathariel," Eolande said in a hushed tone, "we need to talk. The battle is only one month away, and we need to ensure that we're not working against each other."

Tathariel stared at him and nodded, his eyes locking with Eolande's. "I agree," he said. "What do you propose?"

Eolande stepped closer to her brother, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need to form an alliance," he said. "We are both strategic thinkers, and we can work together to outmaneuver our siblings."

Tathariel's eyes narrowed as he considered his older brother's proposal. "And what of the others?" he asked. "What will they think if they find out?"

Eolande shrugged. "We'll need to be careful," he said. "We can't let anyone suspect that we're working together. We can pretend to be at odds, but secretly help each other behind the scenes."

Tathariel nodded slowly. "I see your point," he said. "But how can we trust each other?"

Eolande held out his hand, his gaze steady. "We're family," she said. "We can trust each other. What do you say?"

Tathariel took his sister's hand, sealing their secret alliance. "I'm with you," he said. "Let's win this battle together."

The two of them discussed their plans for cooperation some more before Eolande left Tathariel to rest.

As soon as the door closes, Tathariel's expression turned twisted in disgust. He inwardly sneered and said:

'Alliance, my ass! I can smell Ardan's perfume on him. I'm sure that the two of them are planning something against me.'

'They want to get rid of me first, huh? Well, then. Let's see if you all have the ability to do so.'

Tathariel didn't sleep that night. He spent that time thinking of several strategies that will ensure his victory over his siblings.

Now, only time will tell if his plans would bear fruit...

***

The news of the Battle for the Throne had spread like wildfire throughout the Fey Kingdom, and the common folk was abuzz with talk of the upcoming competition. In a small tavern on the outskirts of the capital city, a group of common fey folk gathered around a table, their voices hushed as they discussed the implications of the battle.

"I heard that the Princes are all vying for the throne," said a young, doe-eyed faerie. "But what will happen to us if they start fighting each other?"

A grizzled old centaur spoke up, his voice low and gravelly. "It won't be good," he said. "When the powerful fight, it's always the weak who suffer."

A sprite chimed in, her voice high-pitched and worried. "What if the winner doesn't like us? What if they take away our homes and our livelihoods?"

A small, plump gnome spoke up, his voice surprisingly confident. "We must have faith in our new ruler," he said. "Whoever wins the throne will be the strongest and the most capable, and they will know how to lead us forward."

The group fell silent, lost in thought as they contemplated the possibilities of the upcoming battle.

Just then, the tavern door burst open, and a group of rowdy faeries stumbled in, their voices loud and boisterous. They swaggered up to the table of common folk, sneering down at them.

"Well, well, well," said the leader of the faeries, a tall, muscular brute with a wicked grin. "Looks like we have some worried little peasants here."

The centaur stood up, his fists clenched at his sides. "We don't want any trouble," he said. "We're just talking."

Just as the rowdy faeries were about to escalate the situation, a tall, imposing figure suddenly entered their vision.

It was a man who had stared at them icily, his gaze seemingly carrying a harrowing end to those who crosses him. Most of his features were covered by the hood he was wearing but the badge on his chest was enough to prove his authority.

The common folk breathed a sigh of relief when they recognized him as an Elite Member of the Demon Slaying Squad.

Ashton strode forward, his sharp eyes locked onto the leader of the rowdy group.

"You should watch your tongue," he said in a low voice, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "I won't hesitate to arrest you if you cause any trouble."

The faeries' swagger faltered as they sobered up, realizing they had been caught in the act by an elite demon slayer. "S-sorry," the faerie leader stammered, taking a step back. "We didn't mean any harm."

Ashton's eyes flicked over to the common folk, and he gave them a reassuring nod. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll make sure everyone stays safe during the Battle for the Throne. It's my duty as a member of the Demon Slaying Squad."

The common folk let out a collective sigh of relief, grateful for Ashton's protection. They knew that the battle would be a dangerous time, but with someone like him watching over them, they felt a little bit safer.

Ashton turned back to the faerie leader, his eyes flashing with a grim reminder of what will happen if they challenge his authority.

"Now, I suggest you and your friends leave before you cause any more trouble," he said. "And don't even think about causing any problems during the battle. I'll be watching."

The faeries scrambled to their feet, quickly making their way out of the tavern. Ashton watched them go, his hand still resting on his sword hilt.

He followed them out of the inn but didn't go in the same direction as them. Instead, he was heading back to the guild with his thoughts unreadable.